The Hidden Horcrux
by Alics E. Junn
Summary: He was dead, that's true. But Severus Snape don't said his last words. After the final breath, his heart go on and he wakes up. Now, he need to reconstruct his soul, but not only : Albus count on him too. Fawkes come, and he need his help : the two last Horcrux should be reunited or all around the world, the Darkness will appear again.
1. Chapter 1

Hi ! Thank you for reading my Harry Potter's Fanfiction. I'm a french fan, so maybe a lot of terms are not the same of yours. I try to translate all of them but i'm not sure for "transplanage" (apparition and disparition in english version). I hope my english level is actually enough !

If you enjoy your reading, please let me a review and follow the story. I want to continue but I'm quickly discouraged when no one give me an opinion ! :)

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The Hidden Horcrux

Last and unexpected dark arts of Hogwarts

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The pain had been dazzling, but he had expected it. The hardest thing to bear was the agony. The humiliation of agony. While the tears flowed, sources of memories, of pain, messages of the painful past… Ripped to death.

Because death is the only way. The only moment. Only brushing against death can make it possible to see one's life scroll by, and cry for another to see it.

After that, it was the utter nothingness. Not the nothingness of sleep or of unconsciousness, not the one where one sees billions of thoughts. No, it was nothingness. The original nothingness. The one that triggers when nothing lives in us, when nothing else exists.

That day, he really died. He died like Lily. Like James. Like Albus. He died like everyone else he hadn't protected. Except that Severus Snape died differently. He died, but it was ephemeral.

His eyes opened again. He still hurt terribly, but it was a pain that encompassed his entire body and not just the areas where he had been bitten. He put his hand on his neck, but he was no longer bleeding. Just a dry, coagulated liquid.

He struggled to get up. He felt weak, incomplete, but all that would be settled soon... No. It wouldn't be. But everything would be fine anyway because, in fact, he was still whole. A little more. It would obviously never be the same ... But it was far away.

Albus was dead.

He was dead, and he had allowed him to survive.

.

Leaving Hogwarts was not complicated. In addition to the raging battle, which he was fleeing - probably - the protective field surrounding the castle had been destroyed. He took a few staggering steps towards the lake, and when his foot touched the surface of the water, he apparated.

He would have liked to control his thoughts, but he knew it was lost. He found himself in the ruins of the house, in the room itself, in the exact spot where he found her dead. The cradle, whose rotten wood gave off a strangely soothing odor, creaked when he leaned against it.

For a moment, he had to fight against the images that were spreading before his eyes. His soul was raw, and it was almost impossible for him to escape: every time his eyelids bent down, he saw her in Harry's cries. And when he tried to keep his eyes wide open to escape, it was as if her ghost was all around him, accusing him of his cowardice.

Bitterly, with some bad faith, he mumbled that he had not been to Slytherin for no reason. Evidently, Slytherin didn't prevent us from defending those we love ... And didn't oblige us to follow the Dark Lord in the meanders of chaos.

He had done it, though. Until she is in danger. Should he blame himself for having sunk into the darkness where he had been drowned since childhood? Without a doubt. But he wouldn't do it.

\- Albus?

His quavering voice was weak. He was not even sure he had spoken aloud... But the scream told him that his old mentor had heard it. The moonlight went out for a second when the bird passed over Severus. Then the Phoenix with his fire's feather landed on a cradle near him.

\- Where is she ?

The bird shook his head, then another scream pierced his throat. The former potions teacher nodded slightly. He had to wait. Harry would defeat the Dark Lord. That makes... recovering the Elder Wand would be just another ordeal.

Slowly, the exhausted body of the man curled up against the floor that the weather had weakened.


	2. Chapter 2

Severus didn't know how long he had stayed there on the badly-worn floor of the Potter's old home. In his head was relentlessly tapping a powerful pain, to the rhythm of a melancholy that filled him with bitterness. He hated this place as he had never hated.

Only a few days ago, he had come here to recover, to revitalize himself, to remember what he was fighting for. Today, there remained nothing but a deep hatred.

And if she had chosen him, rather than James? What if Harry had been his son, really, not just in his paternalistic fantasies? If Albus had protected them as agreed? The thought barely crossed him as Fawkes uttered an accusing cry.

Oh, don't play the innocent, Severus exclaimed angrily. If you had listened, they would probably still alive! And the Dark Lord would have been destroyed fifteen years ago!

Like an answer, an echo in him whispered that he was wrong. He did his best to ignore it, but it was a waste of time: despite his good will and bad faith, the echo took control of every reluctance.

The Dark Lord would have made many more victims, in reality. Nobody knew how to stop the man of these times. The dark monster that deposited the shadow of death every night on muggle dwellings like wizards.

His fingers, which had become bony because of the stress of his last months, passed through his hair that was greasier than usual. He needed a shower, he needed time ... The time to find the rest that this house didn't bring him anymore.

In his state, Apparating was impossible: he owed his success the day before the adrenaline accumulated when he awoke. Now that he had to deal with his real strength, he wasn't even sure he could get up again. He did so, however, and it caused a pain even more unsustainable than the others.

The wounds on his skin were closed, but he felt that the internal tears were still present. No potion could handle this problem before an attack ... It had to prepare a new one, but the ingredients would be hard to find.

With great difficulty, he descended the staircase, which already existed only halfway. In the kitchen, he placed on a wet worktop what he had treasured: a canvas bag, small enough to be hidden under his wizard's robe.

Again, Fawkes came to rest next to him. He seemed to be exhausting too, and Severus knew perfectly well why: he had to spend the night and the morning watching for dangers. A quick glance at the missing roof indicated to the professor that in fact, part of the afternoon must also have disappeared in his sleep.

\- Sleep. There is plenty of space here ... But for pity's sake, do not burn yourself up. I don't need that now.

The sound of the bird of fire seemed to hesitate between indignation and resignation. Severus just nodded, and the red wings unfolded again. Fawkes found a place on a beam that did not support anything. He slipped against his stomach and in an instant, he slept.

Severus could not stay here forever. More and more muggles had moved to Godric's Hollow and although they were in the minority, the risk remained high. Not to mention that any enemy or friend of the Order would know where to find him, if one suspected him still alive. No one was unaware of the reasons that drove him to fight You-Know-Who. Harry himself did not know it anymore, and it was an unpleasant irony ...

He dismissed his thoughts and raised his wand before changing his mind. Admittedly, the Ministry of Magic was plunged into chaos, but Severus didn't know if Lord Voldemort was dead or not: he could not take the risk ... In either case, using his wand could signal his presence if he was seeking.

Discouraged in advance, he plunged his arm into the bag and dutifully and delicately searched each corner, taking care not to drop anything. He found the handle of a travel cauldron and pulled it out of the bag. He had trouble getting him in too ... but he finally came.

He could not afford an Incendio spell either. The life of a wizard became incredibly complex once the magic ceased to be an option. Perhaps he was wrong to be wary, but Albus had always advised him to believe his instinct and even more the madness of his paranoia. It had been successful, mostly since Harry's arrival at Hogwarts school.

In any case, Severus had to make a fire if he wanted to stop the one who burned his body from the inside, aching his extremities. His fingers were already starting to bleach, so much was the influx of blood to repair the damage everywhere else. He fumbled for long minutes in every corner before finding, finally, an old box of matches.

Without saying that she had been spared by the humidity and decay, she was in any case in a position to help him. He managed to get a match out of the box, which was relatively promising. He wrapped old moth-eaten tissue around a piece of wood that was just as inglorious and set it on fire.

It was not up to what he could do in his classroom, but that would be enough for want of anything better.

.

Preparing the potion took him a whole day. A day of anxiety, loneliness, a day to endure the madness that shook him from all sides, passing through the bruised areas of his body to better interfere in him.

Severus poured the mixture into a gourd made by him. Like the bag, it allowed to carry more than it seemed at first, but also different drinks. He took a sip of his preparation, the bitter taste immediately released into his body to appease him. However, he hadn't brought enough ingredients for the potion to be strong enough.

A ghostly pain continued to persecute him, but his fingers regained their color. Still pale, certainly, but they no longer seemed to be about to fall.

Now Severus had to find Abelforth. He would apparate when he was in a position to do so, but in the meantime, he had to follow more "classic" paths. Such as the secret passenger, who led to the castle. From there, he could perhaps learn where the wand was. Find Harry, find the wand. Do not be seen by Harry.

He knew that the boy wouldn't keep such a dangerous instrument but, above all, that the Elder's wand would be too unpleasant for him. Besides the fact that his omnipotence is still reserved for Severus, it was mostly a reflection of his soul. And Harry had been so often in contact with these dark arts that he could probably no longer bear it. Would he try in vain to destroy it? To return to Dumbledore's grave? If he didn't know it yet, he was sure he knew it very quickly.

He rinsed the cauldron more than he washed it and dutifully put it in his bag. Aberforth. Then, the castle. He would go through his reserve to recover plants, by his class recover the stone, then he would find Harry. It wouldn't be difficult: it would be enough to follow the whining complaints of the hero by proxy.

Severus shook his head weakly. There was no place for bitterness, only place for Dumbledore's return, and for his survival. And for Harry's blooming, as had been expected from birth ... If only he could have avoided it all. If he could have interfered with this prophecy, kill the Dark Lord himself, put Harry in the shelter just to plunge into his eyes and hate what he represented to better love the features that surrounded him.

He needed to see her. He took his wand but managed to restrain himself before pronouncing the final "patronum". The comfort would wait for the Elder's Wand to be in his hand. As for this one ...

He stared at his wand, whose ash wood was carved into geometric shapes that seemed complex. In reality, it was a labyrinth with several outputs, the simplest, as to remind him that he had all the choices in the world ... Even though he hadn't chosen since he entered the services of Dumbledore. No, before that, when he joined Tom Riddle in his quest.

As he left the wand, he remembered what Dumbledore once said about her ... "She knew from the start who you would be, Severus. The Wands whose heart is made of Thestral hair are powerful, of course ... But, above all, they are for those who face death. ". Did the wand know he would be in this situation?

Did she know he was going to leave her today? That he should take Elder's Wand to watch over it, and that he would never be able to reuse his old friend for fear of being found? He sighed. To worry about the feelings of a wand ... What an idea!

.

In the meantime, he couldn't use the magic anytime soon if he was still hanging out.

\- Albus?

Fawkes' feathers shuddered, but he didn't move. Severus had underestimated his tired... The bird would find him, he knew where he was going, after all.

He would have liked to say that he hadn't looked back, but he only had to go out backwards. The empty, dilapidated house caused a new cataclysm in his heart. The hatred he fed on him would never stop... Every time he returned, he would be destroyed. It was the weight he had to wear, and he would never complain.

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As you probably know, Severus' wand isn't known... So how did I determine it ? I obviously didn't do this at random, but it's more about serving my purpose than getting closer to what J. K. Rowling could have imagined for him.

To begin, it is made of Ash wood: it means that it is only faithful to the one it chooses and works only to a lesser extent with another sorcerer. In other words, she is as loyal to Snape as he is faithful to Lily.

Then, the hair of Thestral: one says of this heart that it considers worthy as the wizards having conquered the death. This is the case here, since we don't forget that we assume that Snape was killed by Voldemort but that... Well, it didn't work very well!

Level information I didn't give but I thought: the length of the rod is 11,8 inch, because the size of the wand takes into account three different criteria (the size of the wizard, his personality and his power). As for the flexibility, I think it is very rigid, because it generally corresponds to the flexibility of the owner, and his ability to accept change. Let's finish with the thickness of the wand that I consider to be moderating, the finer chopsticks being generally more conducive to producing elegant spells, where Snape, without being desperate, would rather use magic in an emergency.

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In any case, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Don't forget to leave me a little review to encourage me to continue ;)


	3. Chapter 3

Once out of the house, Severus regained his composure little by little. If the Horcrux was a poison for the soul, this house was at least as bad. In any case, he couldn't afford to waste more time: he had already slept too long, and Fawkes was no better than he at that level... Even if it was bad taste to blame him.

He took the risk of apparating to Hogsmeade for fear of arriving too late. Yet he wasn't really pressed by time: once in place, the wand would not disappear... But fear was there, and he wanted to complete this mission as soon as possible. He landed in front of The Hog's Head, a tavern as sinister as usual but whose smell seemed to drive away all enemies.

Abelforth's house, if his memory didn't betray him, was to be a few blocks away, in a narrow lane with uneven ground. Only here everything was alike, and without Dumbledore to guide him, the maneuver became much more complex ...

He passed several houses whose lights, mostly flickering, gave him a strong sense of discomfort. Nothing seemed natural here. Was it the reflection of the war? The thought of the dramas that were played not far away? He didn't know it. But deep down, he felt that the reason was very simple: on leaving, he had hoped to find the euphoria of the winners ... but Harry didn't seem to have finished with the Dark Lord. Not yet.

It was only after about twenty minutes that Severus found the street he was looking for, by a stroke of luck rather than by a genius of his memory: in the distance, he had seen the black dress and poorly maintained a Death Eater, and his first reflex had been to rush into the first passage that came. The good, by luck.

He passed two or three gates before finally stopping in front of one of them, like the others except that a small stone step was used as a flight of steps. He knocked without climbing and waited.

Whether it was because he expected his visit or because he simply didn't want to see anyone, Dumbledore's brother was waiting. First five minutes, then ten. Even Severus, who used to make his visitors wait for the mere pleasure of seeing them get impatient, had never pushed the vice until then.

He was knocking for the sixth time in a row when, finally, a heavy step was heard inside. The one who opened to him was in every respect like his memory: a gray beard, which one guessed to have been brown one day, piercing eyes, an aquiline nose and, above all, a look full of bitterness and boredom.

Abelforth recognized the professor, and he showed it to him rather vehemently. The door closed violently, and Severus knocked again.

\- Abelforth, don't do ...

The child? He couldn't convince him by insulting him, so he changed his mind.

\- That. Don't do that. Open. I just must take the passage ...

\- Find in another, I will not help you to join your master.

It's fair game, he couldn't deny it. Severus was silent for a long moment, so that Albus' brother probably thought he had left. But he knocked again, then unfolded his fingers slowly to put them on the wooden wing.

\- Please ... you're my only chance ...

\- To kill more innocents?

\- To give Albus what belongs to him.

A lie. One only. It wasn't so bad, if it served a noble cause. But was she noble?

\- I must get his wand. She was stolen by the Dark Lord but ... I must put it back ... she must rest next to him.

The silence that followed was oppressive. Did Abelforth know he was lying? Was the wand already back in the tomb of the illustrious director of Hogwarts? He didn't know anything about it. But he had to act quickly. Harry wasn't the smartest man, certainly, but if he had not come to grips with the Dark Mage, that wouldn't be long.

A bolt sound, and the door finally opened. Abelforth didn't even look at him, anger or disgust, impossible to determine... In any case, Severus entered the dark, poorly decorated house, and immediately walked to the painting that represented Albus' sister: Ariana. The young woman stared at him for a long moment, then, slowly, the painting turned on invisible hinges and revealed a passage dug in the rock. Severus turned to thank his host, but he sat on a wooden table, his back to him, and seemed lost in his darkest thoughts.

The former Potions professor entered the low tunnel, which forced him to lean slightly. He walked in the dark, tempt to pronounce in a low voice a "lumos" who reported him to the Ministry of Magic.

He seemed to be walking for an eternity, and that was probably the case, given the distance between Hogsmeade and Hogwarts. Slowly, he pushed the table that faced the Room of Request. A vague glance inside, then he slid out of the tunnel and put the canvas back in place.

Well, he had to find the exit now. The Room of Requirement had taken the form of a huge storage room, and he wasn't really sure where to go. He smelled a slight burning smell, and when he lifted his head he realized why: flames were licking a pile of chairs, books, dressers, and other furniture.

He had a retch when he suddenly heard Harry's voice in the distance. He had to leave without being seen, or he was very likely to be held accountable by people he didn't want to see. Notably Professor Mcgonagall who wouldn't mind sending him to Azkaban.

By skirting around the piles and the voices, he finally found a wall that he undertook to walk in, he hoped, in the right direction. Happily, so, and as the flames rose higher and higher, he was finally outside. He ran to the only place where he would be safe: his reserve.

He arrived safely and closing the door behind him caused a sensation of extraordinary well-being. He closed his eyes, enjoying the scent of the plants, the decoctions, and the jingling of the clock, above his head. It was a pleasant sensation... A tranquility stolen in the midst of the chaos of war. His whole body was shaking... He had to make a new potion, or it would be a nightmare.

Severus frantically searched his shelves, as the pain grew more and more. He felt the snake's fangs sink into his flesh, bite him, devour him, poison him. Here ! The ingredient he had missed, the ingredient that Albus had kept for him, which he had given him by looking him in the eyes. Saying "the day you need it, Severus, will save both of us". A few hours later, Dumbledore's body was crashing at the bottom of the tower.

He shook his head weakly and took the vial. She was tiny... but that would be enough. One dose, one sip, and it would be neat.

He took a small cauldron out of a closet and put it on a heated structure. A simple ring of metal, supported by branches, and under which he had disposed of fuels. He couldn't use a "incendio".

He had done well to keep matches... Muggles sometimes had interesting ideas, although most of them only look like vain attempts at magic. The fire ignited, and he let the cauldron heat slowly.

In the meantime, he finally sliced a Star Grass, pulled out the essence of Dittany, pulverized a half unicorn horn and a Moonstone, before recovering Flobberworm mucus from a shelf nearby.

The ingredients thus prepared, he lifted a heavy bottle which he began to pour the contents into his cauldron. The Hogwarts Lake water produced a pleasant, hissing sound, meeting the hot surface.

He added all the ingredients at one time and began to slowly mix the preparation. The pain forced him to bend in two, but he didn't stop stirring the liquid. It seemed to him that an eternity passed before the preparation finally thickened.

He sighed with relief, and added a few drops of morning dew, which evaporated in a silver cloud. At last, with a trembling hand, he opened the precious bottle offered by Albus. The smell that emanated from it was rancid, acid, bitter, unpleasant. He retches, even more powerful than hearing Harry's voice. Finally, he closed his eyes and poured the Basilisk's venom into the potion.

.

The pain overwhelmed him, and he found himself on the ground, a hand firmly attached to the wooden table. With breathlessness, he had to resign himself to remain completely motionless. In twenty minutes he could drink the potion. In the meantime, he had to wait. Suffer.

Weary, his body was guided to the wall formed by the high shelves. Severus leaned against it and closed his eyes in the silly hope of dozing off to escape the pain. Obviously, it didn't work... Worse, he felt like he was caught in a vice covered with blades.

Finally, he could drink it. He swallowed a whole ladle, greedily, struggling against the burning pain that emanated from his guts. The heat of the potion suddenly became ice. Thousands of stalactites seemed to grow in his body.

He uttered a hoarse scream, as muffled as his physical condition would allow, when he felt like a tear deep inside him. It had nothing to do with the bites of the snake, he felt it, he knew it. It wasn't the potion that did its work either. It was something more sinister still ...

His hands were shaking. On the one hand, he could only hope not to be seen: he knew Harry had the card. On the other, his heart was screaming that he had to worry about something else... One Horcrux had destroyed another. He felt it. The Elder Wand had destroyed a Horcrux... And it could only be Harry.

But he shouldn't panic. Especially not. All of this was part of Albus's plan. When the time came, the boy would die... He was dead now. And what was the continuation of the plan, exactly?

He sighed deeply, closed his eyes, but was drawn from his thoughts by a dry crack and a brutal heat around him. In a flash of fire, Fawkes appeared before his eyes.

\- Albus ...

Severus smiled weakly and closed his eyes, strangely appeased. He could apparate... It wasn't surprising. He did it to escape Umbridge and the Ministry of Magic a few years ago.

After a deep sigh, he stared into the Phoenix.

\- I drank the potion... The pain goes away... But Harry... just died... What should I do now...?

His breath was too short for him to speak, he would have wanted Albus to speak, but he obviously couldn't. Severus shook his head weakly, and a slight cry from the bird brought him back to him.

He read in his eyes, without real difficulty. Having done Occlumency probably helped a lot. Expect. Was it good only then? Even in Dumbledore's eyes? When would he finally be a man of action? But the former Director was right, there was no doubt about it... He had to wait, and his time would be soon.

* * *

So, a small dot on the potion! I called it Horcrux Regeneration Potion.

It consists of two branches of Star Grass, 5ml of dictaria essence, powder of a half unicorn horn, powder of a moonstone, 5g of Veracrasse mucus, fifteen drops Morning dew, 3ml of basil venom, and half a liter of water from Hogwarts Lake.

\- Star Grass is used in the concoction of a healing balm called Starling Shrivel Balm

\- The essence of Dittany helps to treat wounds

\- The unicorn horn is used in the antidote to the Common Poisons

\- The moonstone powder enters the composition of the Philter of peace (which soothes)

\- The mucus of Flobberworm is a "binder", it allows to bind the ingredients between them to allow them to act together

\- The morning Dew allows the modification of the body, aesthetically (here, to remove any mark left by the bites)

\- The venom of the Basilisk, finally, is well known to destroy Horcruxes, here I start from the principle that it allows to overcome the venom of a , it remains a deadly poison, and that will have consequences later...

\- The water of the black lake (In french we said "Lac noir", I don't know if english version do, so, this is the water of Hogwarts Lake), finally, is very charged in magic, it thus makes it possible here to enhance the effects of each ingredient

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I hope this chapter will please you! Feel free to comment and follow the fanfiction to be warned of its progress.

No worries if you are still in the dark: everything will be revealed, or almost, in the next chapter... ; )


	4. Chapter 4

Severus opened his eyes in the darkness. The trembling fire he had lit under the cauldron had extinguished itself and he saw almost nothing in the windowless store. When his eyes finally got used to the dim light, he saw that Fawkes was staring at him with his wet look. He got up and adjusted his dress around him to wrap himself at best.

\- It's time?

A timid cry answered him. Severus sighed as he pulled out his wand, just in case: he was not safe from meeting an enemy of his cause, which would have been natural. Before leaving the reserve, he put his ear against the wooden door. Not a sound outside... He slipped down the hall like a shadow, and carefully closed the door once Fawkes outside.

The firebird climbed into the air and flew up the stairs, probably to the first open window. It was better that they were not seen together, indeed, that the murderer of Dumbledore would be seen with his bird would not be very clever.

Severus had to go around the big hall, he knew it. It is there that the dead and the wounded would logically be transported... He wanted to go see. See who died in this ridiculous war, the fruit of a single fanatic. But no, he had to do his job and not give in to the perverse deviances that haunted him.

The former teacher walked down the hall with a quick step. The smell of death was everywhere. At the bottom of the steps, Severus reached out again. Nothing... not a sound. It was becoming strange. He climbed up quickly, his dress whipping the air, and finally arrived in the hall. He silently passed the door, gasping for breath. Finally, he stepped up to the door and in a matter of seconds walked on one of the park's stone paths.

All that was left to wait for Harry. He had to follow him, to make sure he gave half of his soul back to Dumbledore's side.

It seemed to him an eternity, and it was probably the case. He had spotted Fawkes at the top of a half-destroyed tower. He saw from here his dismay, and the way he counted every missing stone. The show was...

.

There were no words. He had spent years here. Many, many, many years... As many years as Harry had. And everything, now, was destroyed. The castle was no more than a sloppy sketch of itself.

Finally, he heard the familiar trio he had been watching for years to make sure the young Potter did not get in trouble. He hid at best behind a pillar, bringing his dress against him to prevent her from betraying him.

A risky look, but he needed it... The three friends were in a deplorable state. Eyes red with tears, traces of blood and blows to the body and face, their torn clothes and weary gait.

Severus sighed. Harry was weak ... so it would be easy. He pulled his wand out of the folds of his dress and pointed it at Harry, at the bottom. He whispered in a whisper.

\- Legilimens...

Immediately, images invade him. Many, too many images. Just before Harry and his two friends disappeared, he saw Dumbledore's tomb. Reassured, he shivered in his turn.

Of course, the tomb was not far, just in Hogwarts park, far from the door. It would have taken about thirty minutes to join him, but the three exhausted youths did not have to want to go all the way. It was already rather incredible that they took the time so quickly to return the wand to its owner.

.

When Severus arrived on the spot, he had to hurry to take cover. In the shelter, in the shade of a hundred-year-old tree whose motionless leaves seemed to mourn the blood of the dead, he looked at the scene unfolding before his eyes.

The tomb, whose slab had been broken, seemed more solitary than ever. When the wind rose, making the branches shriek, he saw a few strands of white hair swinging gracefully, dancing. A strange melody came to his ears. A sweet melody, like the song of the departing souls...

The notes, slow, rose, circled around them. He saw Harry crumble, against the white marble tomb. He saw the look that Ron and Hermione exchanged before coming close to him. He saw their tears, all three.

He saw Harry's hand resting on the marble. Hermione's, resting on her shoulder. That of Ron who did not know where to put, and who bent so as not to spoil this moment.

Severus cried. He did not cry Albus. He mourned the grief of those teenagers who had faced the war since childhood. These teenagers who had fought in a war that should never have been theirs.

He resented Albus. He resented her, perhaps more than her failure to protect Lily. It was as if his heart was torn apart. Some wanted to get out of the trees, to reassure Harry... The other wanted to see Albus come back. The only guide he has ever had. The melody, heady, danced and swayed around him, harassing his ears, making him shudder with shame and pain. At last the sobs died out. The melody slowly began to slow down. In her turn, she stopped.

Severus sat up and turned his head towards the trio. Harry laid the wand in the tomb. He stood up, and it was Hermione who made the broken pieces land, which served as the roof for the dead. They stared at the cold slab for a moment as the rain began to fall, darkening the marble.

The former teacher sat up and Harry turned his head to him. Hidden just in time, he sighed.

\- Harry? Let's go there.

He imagined without difficulty Hermione put his hand on the arm of the hero despite himself. Their footstep wet in the grass went away while the rain increased tenfold.

Soon a curtain of water lay under his eyes, beating leaves and branches above his head. He came out of the edge of the woods, and let the rain drown him. Quickly, he had the sensation of weighing twice his weight in his clothes had absorbed water.

He stopped in front of the tomb. He had already used his wand too much ... He put his hands on the marble, his fingers sliding along the cracks until he found a space wide enough to fit in.

He pulled with all his might. For long seconds, it was useless. Then he pulled harder, closed his eyes, groaned under the effort. It was only when tears of frustration began to bead on her cheeks that, finally, the marble moved. Slowly, inch by inch, the heavy stone moved away from the others. She finally fell into a thud that the rain stifled.

Severus rested his palms on the unveiled thickness of another piece of the tomb. This time he pushed. More seconds, frustration, anger, despair. Finally, a movement. A few inches of won... Then the face of Albus.

He stared at it a long moment, and the tears multiplied. That was what Harry had seen? The parchment skin to fall on the bones protruding... eyelids become almost transparent... A beard that seemed comical, to hide only one jaw...

He had to back down to vomit, abruptly. He had already seen death, but it was something else... It was the consequences of death. The forgetfulness of the body. The transformation of a face.

Several minutes later, he finally recovered. The water must have invaded the coffin... He had to close it again. He went on his knees to the grave, his elbows resting on his ledge, and he opened his eyes wide.

Albus was totally dry. Not a trace of water. Even there, he was fighting the elements... Severus smiled softly, despite the sour taste of bile in his throat and on his tongue. He held out his fingers on the wand...

An explosion.

No... An implosion.

Suddenly, sensations, emotions, a thunder of happiness, joy, pain, tears, fear, cries, laughter, smile, flight, hope, despair, shame, anger... All! Finally! The whole range of these sensations, these emotions! All he was there... Anyway... Complete.

He screamed.

Once again, he screamed.

Then he left in a great burst of laughter.

Then it was a torrent of tears.

It was complete. He seized convulsively the Elder Wand. His soul. That fragment of him that had come off when he killed Dumbledore... That fragment of him, that so powerful Horcrux...

.

When calm returned to him for good, Severus got up. He only had to lift his wand to get the marble back into place. Slowly, he set out for the castle, this time on foot. He wanted to see this place one last time before fleeing.

On the way, his fingers clenched to become white, clinging to his wand.

Albus had warned him. The Elder Wand was powerful, it was a relic, to become a part of it, to force it to become a bit of it, to corrupt its very nature, would not be without consequence.

He knew, yet it was a strange sensation. He should have just recovered what he was, become whole... He felt doubled. All he felt was at least twice as strong. Without saying that it was a torture... Let's say it was particularly stressful.

After about twenty minutes, wading through the mud and cursing the sky for all that rain, Severus finally found himself at the foot of the Astronomy Tower. He sighed, and leaned against the damp stones, made almost black by the water.

For a long time, he looked at the spot where Albus's lifeless body had hit the ground, then looked up at the place he had fallen. He raised his wand... And finally, he too, could pay him homage.

The glow, alone, allowed him to imagine all those of that night: his clarity was reflected on every drop of rain, propagating the pain in a thousand fragments. Fawkes' cry sounded and the bird, whose soaked plumage weighed down the flight, landed next to Severus, who sheltered him from his robe.

It was time…

He crouched down, put his hand on the back of the bird, and apparated.


End file.
